


Wasting Away (Again)

by 1f_this_be_madness



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anger, Anger Management, Angst, BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), Castiel is Jack Kline's Parent, Crying, Day At The Beach, Dean Winchester Can't Say "I Love You", Dean Winchester Needs Castiel, Dean Winchester Needs to Use Actual Words, Dean's heart is a bar and he's closing it down, Declarations Of Love, Drinking to Cope, Emotional, F/F, F/M, Families of Choice, Feelings, Fix-It, Gen, Hugs, Inspired by Music, M/M, Memories, Movie Reference, Not Actually Unrequited Love, POV Third Person Limited, Post 15x19, Protective Dean Winchester, Requited Unrequited Love, Sassy Rowena MacLeod, Series Finale, Swearing, Unconventional Families, alternate series finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:47:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27851102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1f_this_be_madness/pseuds/1f_this_be_madness
Summary: "... Maybe we'll see Dean and Sam and Castiel buying a timeshare in Cabo" - Misha Collins musing over the series finale in an interviewAfter God is forced to give up the ghost and becomes mortal, and Jack intakes Chuck's power, what are they going to do?There is no longer a story.(Or, without any facet of the rest of their lives foretold, the Winchester brothers are damn sure they can do something. Anything.It's just...they have no idea what to do.)
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel & Jack Kline, Castiel & Jack Kline & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel & Jack Kline & Rowena MacLeod & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Claire Novak & Dean Winchester, Donna Hanscum/Jody Mills, Eileen Leahy & Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Jack Kline & Rowena MacLeod, Jack Kline & Sam Winchester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pouring out Supernatural fics right now because what happened hurts so much. They deserve so much to be happy, all of them.
> 
> This is for us. We who wanted the best. Love shall not be silenced here - always keep fighting, and kick it in the ass!
> 
> I hope you enjoy :)

_Nibblin' on sponge cake  
Watchin' the sun bake  
All of those tourists covered in oil_

_Strumming my six-string  
On my front porch swing  
Smellin' those shrimp they're beginnin' ta boil_

_Wasting away again in Margaritaville  
Searchin' for my lost shaker of salt  
Some people claim that there's a woman to blame  
But I know  
It's nobody's fault_

<\---///--->

Dean's pretty sure this is his fault.

All of it. Or most of it. Okay, well first off he hadn't killed Chuck. He'd walked away, and Sam had walked away, and they drove Jack with all his new glowy divine power out to a clearing and let him go try to figure out how to be the new god. But he'd also stood there like a bump on a log and refused to open his damn mouth when Jack wanted to do something for them.

Just like in the panic room with him - 

He could've done it, he could have asked Jack to bring Cas back. Never mind that apparently the Empty has more power than God. That was just what Billie said, and other people said, and who knows who'd lied to them? Jack had the whole nephilim thing that got Cas out the first time, or helped, at least. Kid woke him up by friggin _wishing_ , and if anything (even through his drink-induced stupors and passing out on the floor or with his face buried in Miracle's fur which Sam has yet to comment on but Dean is waiting for it) could pinpoint the number of wishes, well then Jack's the Blue Fairy to Dean's Pinocchio. 

But Dean looks at Jack, at this kid who's gonna be the new God and who says he knows people try to do good because of them, and sees Sam with those proud puppy eyes as he hesitates and then just flings his arms around Jack in a bear hug - and he coughs and gulps and doesn't say shit. He can't do it. Feels like his heart is being sliced into pieces or like he's getting stabbed by a gigantic rusty nail, but he cannot say anything.

And if that isn't absolutely pathetic, nothing is.

<\---///--->

Jack brings them back, too; everybody else - Miracle hadn't been gone, and by the time Sam and Dean make it back to the bunker, dragging ass, Sam's phone is blowing up with texts from Claire and Charlie and the one that makes him smile hugely and start to cry "Eileen," Sam breathes, eyes shining and tears immediately starting to pour down his face. He looks to his brother in disbelief. 

Even though Jack had so much power, neither had dared to hope. Not even when Jack waved and said he would be back, that this was not a goodbye. "I have things to do," he said, face brightening into an excited smile. "There are so many people to help," and he'd looked like that little kid, that he was - the one Sam believed in, and was proud of.

Dean heard his brother utter "that's my boy" and had to close his eyes and look away as Sammy let out a sob. Just as he has to do now when his brother starts gushing over Eileen, how he can't believe she's back, she's texting him, he can't wait to see her and -

"Go," even as they'd just come back in, Dean hasn't hung up his jacket or tossed the keys, and so whirls and then plunks them in his little brother's hand. "Go get her, Sammy. Get her and be happy." And he chokes on that but smiles, and Sam reaches out with a hand to put it on Dean's shoulder. Gives him that gentle look where he's trying so hard to reach Dean with feeling, and this time, for once, the elder Winchester breaks down. 

"Are you sure, Dean?"

Maybe it's the way he says it. Or the relief he felt, they both feel it, a little bit. Coming in and crashing really, because Dean hasn't let himself feel anything deeply, not since the Empty, and Cas -

_Cas._

He still hasn't said anything about their goodbye, about what exactly happened other than that the idiot angel had sacrificed himself to the Empty. Practically giftwrapped himself, and adding Billie as an extra treat. Dean snorts slightly, tries to scoff, but. 

He can't. His throat is burning, his eyes are full, and he just friggin _can't._

Maybe it's the way Sam holds onto him, his shoulder, like Cas did but different, and Sammy has always been here and it's always been them and at least that hasn't changed, but damn it -

"Sammy," Dean gasps, and his face is in his brother's coat and his fingers clutch his shoulders as he's hauled in

_"You think hate and anger, that's what drives you, that's who you are"_ that stupid sonofabitch had said this, had added that it wasn't true with that look in his big blue eyes as if Dean was the best thing to ever happen to him

_"And everyone who knows you sees it. Everything you have done, the good and the bad, you have done for love."_

"I love you, little brother. So much."

Sam knows. Of course he knows, no matter how many times Dean's emotionally repressed ass hasn't been able to say it. Hasn't since he was four years old. This is it. He's done it now, he's said it out loud. 

Not to everyone who needs... who deserves to hear it, though. Dean expels a croaking noise and Sam's arms hold on and clutch him tighter. 

_"...You raise your little brother for love, you fought for this whole world for love. THAT is who you are. You are the most caring man on earth. You are the most selfless, loving human being I will ever know."_

"I love you too, Dean."

Oh, yeah. Sure he's selfless, or actually just too stupid to even bother to ASK for his best friend back. The being he'd always wanted, needed to have in his life after they had met by lightning and wind and those fritzing lights exploding in Bobby's barn.

_"Ever since I met you, ever since I pulled you out of Hell - knowing you has changed me."_

"Dean, hey. We... We can do this. We're gonna be okay."

How does he know? How can they be, how can Dean be when he looked at Cas and said nothing back? Nothing worth a shit, at least. Just as he looked at Jack, with the power of God, and didn't say a damn thing. 

_"I love you."_

Those words, from that mouth, that voice, choked and warm and higher than the usual growl; tears pouring down his cheeks, this seraph who had been human and yet Dean had not known the extent of his feelings, hadn't known Castiel COULD love - and yet he hadn't spoken up.

Hadn't said a damn thing.

So now (of course) Dean speaks, wiping at his face and pulling back with a smile even as he feels like something is shattering inside him: 

"Go get her, Sam. Go be with Eileen." One of us deserves to be happy, and it's you. It's always been you. He claps his brother's upper arms and smiles again, stepping back - closing off his bitter, brittle expression with typical bravado. "Don't worry about me."

As always, he can be here, hanging in the bunker alone and pretend that it's gonna be fine. That he is, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is starting angsty (and with quotes from 15x18 and the finale) but I'm doing my level best to make the outcome better, I promise! Take care out there.
> 
> Comments welcome :)


	2. Chapter 2

_Don't know the reason  
Stayed here all season  
Nothin' to show but this brand-new tattoo  
But it's a real beauty  
A Mexican cutie  
How it got here, I haven't a clue_

<\---///--->

Dean sniffs and claps his brother on the back as he claps another smile on his face, trying to allow Sam to leave and actually go for Eileen. Go for happiness, go get her and bring her back here if that is what he wants.

As for Dean? Well, Dean is going to get drunk.

It's not too hard; they still have old batches of alcohol around from the men of letters days and he finds a bottle of what could be Scotch or maybe just some other type of overly fermented alcohol, but whatever it is, it gives Dean the chance to obliterate everything he could possibly be thinking out of his head. Everything except the fact that the cold smooth lip of the bottle and the way his mouth curls around it makes his mind jump to a pair of lips that - no, damn it; stop that crap right now. This isn't what he does. Sam is always the teenage girl, he has to deal with this.

Except he _doesn't_ deal with this crap. Not in a way that's healthy; and his hand is smarting with the memory as he recalls throwing a lamp across the bunker off the table, as he drinks himself into a stupor enough off the job to start doing so when on, and THAT'S when Sam asks what's up with him. Dean stares down the bottle he holds, twisting his knuckles against the cool glass and then the warmer seal of wax he'd broken with a fingernail. The lights are hazy around their edges and his head feels like it's floating when a slamming sound echoes around from the walls. 

He jerks in place, almost sliding out of his chair, elbows slipping off the edge of the table and knuckles whacking right into the heavy wood, causing a sharply-uttered "shit!" 

Standing, swaying, the entire bunker tilts, as if he is on the deck of a rapidly sinking ship. Whipping both hands up was not the best idea because it's as if Dean's head is balanced like an egg in jelly and he's rolling, tipping - Digging the heels of both of his hands into his eyes and stopping still, pinpricks of gold sparkle like the tailends of fireworks he'd shot off with Sammy that fourth of July one year when his little brother actually got to be a kid -

 _No, stop -_

Icy fear slams into his gut, because thinking specifically about that memory makes him remember the first time he and Sam went Upstairs, and he can't be dead, he can't go back there, not this way, not now - 

Hears a pounding again, and with agony slicing through his knee in a white hot spike, Dean drops his hands and lifts his eyes at last to register through his hazy head that the sound is a banging on the bunker door. Not even pounding too hard, but Dean winces and stands, palm sliding off the table, yet even in this state he finds the pistol attached to its underside. Pulls out an angel blade too, just in case it's something like friggin Lucifer again. If that bastard comes back - 

Wincing as he hauls himself up the stairs and leans heavily beside the door, Dean bites his lips and tamps down on the feelings that ...his whole point was to silence himself under all the alcohol but he's wiping his face and feeling cold liquid sluicing down his cheeks, what the hell? Jerking open the door with fists locked over one another, knife and pistol pointed, "Gimme a reason," Dean snarls into the open oval face and wide guileless eyes of Jack.

<\---///--->

"Jack." Dean cannot bring himself to be surprised, or awed. Especially not when Jack offers that same bright smile and open hand.

"Hello," he says as if saying that as normal could make any of this work, any of these moments appear normal in Dean's brain.

But all Dean does is shake his head and drop the gun and knife with rolling eyes. He isn't floating now, he just feels truly bone-tired. "Kid, why the hell did you - did you just seriously knock on the door?" He gestures and Jack presses his lips together, swoop of hair falling forward as he looks down, bashful as Dean's gesture grows sharp and his voice hard "You're friggin GOD now!" He emphasizes, trying not to explode, because it's Jack, or was before gaining power at least - he's - was a kid, it isn't his fault that the deity who originally possessed that power did a real crappy job with it. Wiping his hand across his cheeks, down over his mouth and chin, Dean demands "What're you even doing back? Did Sam ask -?"

Jack raises his head with a shake. "No, Dean. And... I may have h- Chuck's power, but... Dean, I'm still me." Swallowing with gaze pinned on the hunter hopefully "I've attempted some things, and they haven't worked, but I have an idea." He steps forward, features intent with purpose and with hope. "I think I know a way for us to get Cas back. You want that, right?" 

Does he want that? _DOES HE WANT THAT?!_ Jack has an idea, he has the nerve to stand there, and - 

Dean doesn't want to hear it. 

He shakes his head, pressing fist to mouth as his stomach rolls, his body heaves. "No," voice breaking, rough and so low it is very nearly silent. "No, Jack, I can't..." His words tremble out on a choke, a sob, a breath that Jack must lean in to hear, past the warmth and tang of salt and scent of liquor down to _Dean._ What is real and rich and raw in him, and clawing through his chest and throat, roaring out in bursts of slicing fat, cankerous words "...I can't do it, okay? I can't get my hopes up, damn it! Couldn't even do enough -" _couldn't do anything_ "- to keep Cas from getting taken in the first place, and the stupid self-sacrificing sonofabitch just HAD to save me, and tell me -"

He stops then, body bowing forward, hands clenching so tight around his own knees that his knuckles bulge; bulbous, bloodless as his lips now are for how fiercely he has flattened them. 

Yet Jack steadily gazes on Dean and nods. "I know." 

Dean blinks. He's too drunk for this. And he's tired. So tired. "What, Jack? What do you know?" He wishes it could just be a bit of banter, tossed at him scathingly. A joke.

But of course, it's not that simple. 

It never is. 

And this is Jack, besides. Jack, who is standing here with his brow line drawing down, knitting as he cocks his head and squints a little (that look kills Dean.) "I know what he means to you. He's your family." Looking at Dean intently, stepping closer even than before, and hesitating only seconds before putting one timid hand on a broad shoulder, grasp strengthening when Dean doesn't move away. "and we're going to get him back."

Dean shakes his head again, sharply, movement jerking as if he's been stabbed by Jack's words or his touch. Coughs even as his stomach rolls and he has to swallow nausea. "Yeah well he's your father, he's your family too." His tone of voice is a croak.

But Jack, sweet and innocent and unguarded responds with the sentiment that slays Dean's heart: "What he is to you is different, though."

 _You don't know how much._ Dean scoffs on a broken chuckle as everything of him is crumbling, his inner walls a house of cards, face screwing up in agony before he covers it and breathes, smoothing his features with but unable to stop a shaking hand, balling into a fist as he almost shouts from desperation. "He's my best friend, but you're the one who got him out last time!"

Jack sighs. Dean is not getting this. "Yes, and I helped him because he's my father. Because he means so much. But it's...this time the Empty is stronger. I don't think it wants to give him up." Pausing again, voice far softer "We'll have to force the shadow to let him go."

Silence beats through the bunker in a sense as loud as Dean's heart hammers in his ears. Jack seems to be holding his breath. 

Then there's a heavy breath, a muffled snort. Dean beckons for the younger being to follow as he at last descends the stairs to reseat himself at the table. May need to start drinking more. A LOT more.

The shadow has to be forced. Most powerful thing - or nothing - and they have to fight. Of friggin course. What else is new? 

Yet Dean cannot stop a quirk of his lips, the slightest softening of his features around his eyes as Jack follows after his beckoning arm eagerly. So excited to have a plan. Hopefully he actually does have some sort of plan. Because this, fighting is something Dean always knows he can do. 

"Well then how're we gonna swing this, kiddo? Got any bright ideas?"


	3. Chapter 3

_Wastin' away again in Margaritaville  
Searchin' for my lost shaker of salt  
Some people claim that there's a woman to blame  
Now I think,  
Hell, it could be my fault._

<\---///--->

Dean stares blankly at this ever-optimistic being before him and is entirely certain that booze has finally been enough to screw up his brain. Or at least mess with his comprehension.

"...You want to do what now?"

"To save Cas we need the powers of Heaven AND Hell. So I called Ms Rowena," Jack looks like an excited puppy. "She can join her power with mine and we can open a...rent, a hole in the Empty to get to him. It's just that you need to be the one to reach out. To wake him up."

Dean shoves his drink decanter back and forth a couple of times while Jack keeps on looking at him in his hopeful kid way but also containing some of that strange richness and gravitas he'd gotten from having the power of God. Eventually though, the hunter rolls his eyes and snorts. "Me. Really, I'm gonna do what, exactly? Go ten more rounds with the Empty?" Letting out a mirthless bark of laughter, he licks his lips and his tone grows quiet, growling, rough: "...I don't wanna do that to Cas, he's been hurt enough." _He went in hurting, even after bein' truly happy, because I never said - I never told him a damn thing._

As Dean says this and the room around him almost rings with silence, he hears the door opening overhead, and can tell Sam is coming in by the sound and fact he can get through it - and then of course his brother is laughing in joyous disbelief before calling "Jack!" And practically running down the stairs with... Eileen behind him. He's all long hair and fond smile that flashes all his teeth and makes his eyes sparkle. Seeing it hits Dean like a truck. Never thought he'd see Sammy look so carefree again. 

'Hello Sam," Jack greets him, and lets out an _oof_ as Sam hits him full-on and wraps himself around Jack's whole body in a hug. 

"It's so good to see you," he's beaming, sniffling, and Dean can tell from the look in Sammy's eyes as he glances over that he hadn't honestly expected to see Jack again.

At least not this soon.

As Eileen makes it to the bottom of the stairs, she hesitates. Dean is guessing Sam told her at least something of what went down, because she doesn't look at all surprised to see him catch his balance by bracing a fist upon standing. No, she only appears heartbroken.

"Hi, Dean," making a fist with her right hand briefly, Eileen circles it clockwise a couple times in front of her chest. "I heard about Castiel. I'm so -" she purses her lips to say something, and Dean is moving, shaking his head. _Don't think, don't think how he said you changed him, how you're the most selfless, loving - think about Sammy, and Eileen. They're - they will be together now._

He stops in front of her and says "I'm just glad you're okay," before hugging the daylights out of her, his body dwarfing hers even more than Sam's does Jack's. At least they are here. And if the kid actually called Rowena and they can trust her, maybe... maybe she can help.

Dean doesn't want to hope, desperately; hoping is how you get hurt, after all. But hell, he thinks as Sam claps Jack on the back and relinquishes him before taking the hand of Eileen once Dean lets go of her, he's going to keep fighting. The way he'd said to a reaper so many years ago.

What else has he got to lose?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eileen is making the ASL sign for 'sorry' by forming the letter S with her fist and circling it over her chest clockwise.
> 
> Jack's gonna talk to Rowena, woo!
> 
> Comments appreciated <3


	4. Chapter 4

_I blew out my flip flop  
Stepped on a pop top  
Cut my heel, had to cruise on back home  
But there's booze in the blender  
And soon it will render  
That frozen concoction that helps me hang on_

<\---///--->

Dean is on the phone with Jody. "Well yeah apparently we're about to punch a hole in the Empty and piss it off," he says - Sam and Eileen are currently spreading herbs and helping Jack create the sigil that Rowena will be adding her own to amplify (all the way from Hell, which is...nice).

"To get that adorable angel out of its clutches, you'll have to be the one to wake him," the Queen of Hell had said to Dean - being a witch, she'd made some changes to demon summoning so it now works rather like cellphones. The kicker was that _he_ was going to have to wake Cas and make enough racket to keep the Shadow focused on him and not his angel.

 _His angel._ That was not now Dean had phrased it, he hadn't said anything, but Rowena made this knowing little hum of hers and said that and Dean had to take a few breaths so as not to go apeshit. 

So even as his chest is currently hurting from the combination of Jody and her family being alive (he hears Alex and Claire in the background yelling about a set of Alex's scrubs that she can't find, and Donna's chirpy tone coming in to tell them _'okie-dokie, let's settle down sweet ones'_ ) and the fact that his reason for calling the sheriff is to warn her, he continues doggedly "I'm gonna have to trash talk the Empty, we're pullin' a Gondor and Rohan battle tactic but if we can't make it out like the men of the West -" Dean swallows.

"- You want us to be ready for this...thing to take out the Earth?" Jody asks. "Haven't you boys dealt with enough apocalyptic crap yet? Or do you have a quota to meet on how many world-altering threats you deal with per year?" Voice going muffled for a moment she calls "- Alex, check behind the washer with Claire. I know you've looked around there, honey, but I'm saying try again." Her voice grows serious with concern as she speaks again to Dean. "I probably shouldn't be asking, because I think I know the answer already, but are you sure about this, Dean?"

 _I forgive you. Of COURSE I forgive you, and I'm sorry, I should've said this before. Cas, I'm so sorry._ "Heh. Well. Jack is sure, and so is Rowena. And it's the only thing I can do, Jody," Dean almost whispers the last words, lowering his head. "It's Cas."

"I know," Jody replies, and her voice holds more than acknowledgement; from her comes understanding and a deep river of emotion that precedes shuffling and movement on her end. 

Meanwhile Jack, who has finished creating the sigil to focus and amplify power enough to pierce the Empty, hopefully, steps up next to Dean and only hesitant for an instant, lays his hand on the hunter's shoulder. He had heard the reference and not only watched Star Wars in his early days of getting to know popular culture. As is evident when he intones "'The day may come when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship, but it is not this day.'"

There's a heaviness in his tone. Dean stares at him for a minute and then his chin begins trembling. It does not help that he hears Jody explaining what is happening to someone whose determined voice is now speaking sharply in his ear "Hey Hasslehoff, you better bring the doof back, all right?" After a beat "And yourself too. You're crazy but the world can always use some'a that." With what he could swear is a smile in her voice, she adds "Gunga galunga. Gunga lagunga."

That harsh, caring, always-tough tone wavers at the end, and Dean is blinking and nodding, working to get his voice under control. Cannot help but chuckle; he's glad he bequeathed to Claire the greatest comedy and golf movie of all time. He shoots out an arm towards Jack, causing the young being to nearly flinch until Dean's arm is wrapping around him and he's pressing his body to Jack's, chin resting in his hair as he speaks into the phone in a manner only slightly wobbly "10-4, Miley Cyrus." And then "You got it, Claire." He tells Jody goodbye and ends the call before chucking his phone onto the table and turning himself to engage fully in the hug.

Both arms enfold the younger as Dean speaks a rough "Thanks, Jack."

Jack buries himself into the embrace as well with a "You're welcome, Dean," that precedes a slight hiccuping sob and then the long arms of Sam are also around him, around both of them. Dean shifts to enlarge the hug, and reaches out to grab ahold of Eileen, to bring her in as well. Sam presses his lips to the top of Jack's head and rubs his hair. Dean's face goes into Sammy's shoulder as Eileen nestles into his side.

They're here to get their family, and to hold each other up; and after stepping away, murmuring words and wiping eyes, Sam wrapping one arm around Eileen as Dean stands next to Jack to listen as he speaks over the sigil, light flaring, binding, coalescing into the shape of almost a door in the air, opening to a black expanse - not just blackness, but nothingness - stepping forward, heart in throat as he is staring down this lack of all, Dean forces past his lips in a word, everything: 

"CAS!!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Claire and Alex need to be okay, along with their two absolutely badass moms - Jody and Donna are amazing together, and I stand by my thought that they should have showed up to help for the finale!
> 
> *Contains references to Lord of the Rings AND Caddyshack because I couldn't help myself
> 
> Also Claire and Dean's banter was amazing, I miss it so much
> 
> Comments appreciated


	5. Chapter 5

_Wastin' away again in Margaritaville  
Searchin' for my lost shaker of salt  
Some people claim that there's a woman to blame but I know, it's my own damn fault.  
Yes, and some people claim  
That there's a woman to blame  
And I know, it's my own damn fault_

<\---///--->

"Cas!" Dean calls again. Goopy black expanse stretching ahead of him, the only thing currently sentient is the presence of the Empty itself. He looks over his shoulder to glance at Jack, and Sam, who both nod at him. Eileen shoots him a thumbs up, and he starts slogging through the darkness. "C'mon, rise and shine - I'm here to get your feathery ass home, dammit!" Deal be damned. Cas had made it and honored it, hadn't he? Yeah. So as far as Dean Winchester is concerned, he's within his rights to bust in here and take his angel back. 

His voice cracks a little as it is swallowed up by nothing, and he keeps it loud by force, adding "Come on man, I need you to hear me. We can't -" Dean's voice does actually break now, and he blinks hard, eyes stinging. Swallows and, every effort screaming in his head and heart and limbs, keeps on moving. "We can't leave things the way we left them, man. You had a damn date with this bitch of a place when you got happy, I know, but I gotta say somethin'. I've got to tell you something. You - remember when I prayed to you in Purgatory?" 

Dean is fully conversing now, feeling coils of hissing hatred coming for him from the Empty, even as he hopes whatever else comes for him is going to be Cas. "I wanted to tell you something else then, but you didn't let me because you said you'd heard my prayer. Stubborn bastard." Dean exhales a chuckle into the dark. Tries incredibly hard not to think about the fact everything else here could potentially be waking up and hearing these things that are personal between him and Castiel. Tries so hard to believe things can actually somehow be all right, that Cas will hear him and everything will be fine.

But his chest hurts anyway. 

It is growing colder. Dean isn't clear on the temperature here, in this not-place, but if he had to guess he'd say it's either already as cold as the darkest reaches in the expanse of Space, or as he's stomping through shouting in here it's starting to get colder due to being pissed off and woken up.

Dean is finding it difficult to get a full breath at this point. It is as if his lungs are spasming, and his movements start to slow. He has not been focusing too hard on just exactly how he has been moving through the Empty, but is forced to contemplate by the simple fact that his legs are no longer hastening to obey. Submerged in a pool of blackness in the black nothing, Dean stops and clenches his fists. Closes his eyes. 

Jaw working, he shakes his head with a scoff. "You're really digging in here, huh?" He snaps, opening his eyes again and glaring. "Trying to scare me, keep me from speaking - but you ain't gonna silence me, Empty!" Dean roars out. "I've already done that shit to myself - I've done it for years!" _Too many damn years. I've been so stupid._ "I was a dumbass, Cas." He calls out to his angel again. "...I know you're gonna say something different, 'cause you prefer less dumb, less ass. Because I know you." His laughter sounds like a sob, now, as he clears his throat and presses his teeth into his lower lip, trembling from emotion as well as from the cold. 

He is now feeling sluggish, and wouldn't that be just his luck not to get the words out when he is actually, actively trying? Dean shakes his head as violently as possible, blinking hard and clenching his fists tightly to keep himself up and awake. "You told me I've changed you, but hell, I wouldn't BE here if it wasn't for you. I'd still be in Hell. Used to wish I was, sometimes, but not anymore. Not since I figured out -" Dean swallows, feels a lump lodging in his throat. He needs to see Cas, to say all this to him, look into those blue eyes and not shy away. He needs to tell him so many things. "Come on, Cas," his voice is thickening, stinging eyes full and cold slicing down his cheeks unbidden as he gasps. "I need you. I need you to wake up and come back to me. Come back with me, and let's kick this in the ass." Breaking completely, now, limbs stiffening and heavy, so so heavy, Dean finds himself dropping, kneeling to beg to Cas. "Cas. _Please._ "

<\---///--->

Dean does not know where his knees go. But he hears a howl of triumph as the nothingness, the cold shoots up his body, surrounding him. Tendrils of empty darkness tug and twist and tighten like vines or ropes winding around his calves and thighs and chest, his arms, and he feels like Luke Skywalker, getting dragged under by the trash monster. But there's no one next to him in this Death Star.

He thrashes, choking, still spitting out words into nothing that is wrapping around him and before him. CAS, PLEASE! Coming from the man who swore how much he wasn't one for praying because it was too much like begging; and he would never, ever beg - he had prayed every day to Castiel for almost as long as he had known him, and now here he is lifting up his eyes and begging his best friend not to leave.

Cas cannot be forever gone. Dean cannot, will not bear it. 

And then as real darkness starts closing in, as he can tell his breaths are not simply slowing but stopping, Dean gasps the words he should've said to Cas, the ones he wanted to say before he was taken. The truth he has felt for years, but only managed to consciously recognize this one: 

"Me too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp I'm sorry, but the Empty is pissed
> 
> Let me know what you think of this


	6. Chapter 6

_Yes aaaand some people claim that there's a woman to blame, but I know  
It's my own damn fault._

<\---///--->

Darkness, nothing; not breathing, head spinning - _This is it, then. Cas, I -_ no one has told the angel that they love him before. But Cas needs to know. He deserves to know. 

But Dean's lungs are burning, his body is spasming violently as he works to suck in air and cannot, eyes and hands up. Supplication in attitude is the only thing that allows him to see that face, wide-eyed and panicked and full of emotion. So terrified, so heartbroken, so _human -_

"Dean." An oh-so-familiar arm is reaching down to him, for him, as all Dean can think is "no, come on, I'm here to save YOU" and he doesn't know if his ears are working anymore but he hears a chuckle, sounding the same as it had from Cas before he'd gone, before the Empty sucked him in: _Happiness isn't in the having, it's in just... being. It's in just saying it._

And Dean understands that as he looks in those beautiful blue eyes and grits out "Cas," with a final effort to fling one arm upwards, fingers curling around the weave of his angel's trench coat. _The only time he rebelled. The only version of himself that God could not control._ Too much heart, reaching out to a brightly glowing soul. Green eyes locking on blue, "Castiel, I want you." He's said 'me too', he has gotten here, pissed off the Empty to the point he is losing all of his air. For damn sure he's going to make sure Cas knows Dean more than needs him; that he wants him, too.

Wants that face in the sun, toes in the sand time and feeling as well, as always; but even as he feels as though Cas's hand closes around his, a shriek like that of elation blasting from the Empty indicates he's not likely to get it.

<\---///--->

Slight breeze, hot white sand, the blue of the ocean same color as Cas's eyes. A distant screeching from a few gulls; Miracle barking, tail wagging crazily whilst paws skid over the soft ground, and laughter echoes across the water. Sam has Jack on his shoulders and Eileen splashes them both. Dean's skin warms as do his toes from sun and sand.

Sam's head flings back with laughter, teeth as bright as the blinding-white sand, and Eileen's playful shoving catches him in the lower abdominal area, which in turn sends Sasquatch flying back, he and Jack dunking in the sea, a shriek preceding explosion upwards of saltwater and sopping wet hair. Soaked strands cover three fourths of Sam's face, and Jack appears the most carefree he has been since celebrating all of the holidays with Mrs Butters before things went sideways.

A presence stops next to Dean, warmth resting against his side as Cas walks up and leans in, all slick cloth of his button-down and the whispering sound of swim trunks that Dean had cajoled him into wearing ("C'mon, Cas, we're going to the BEACH. Ya gotta relax"). 

"Hello, Dean," he says, passing a beer and allowing their fingers to touch as their eyes lock onto each other, and Dean licks his lips as his gaze traces Castiel from his face to his chest and down to the jutting of his hipbones where his unbuttoned shirt rests over the top of swim trunks only a slightly deeper blue than his eyes. But with palm trees emblazoned upon them in brightest green. 

"Hey, Cas," Dean's tone is scratchy, just the slightest, as he takes the bottle and unscrews its lid, tapping the neck to Cas's (because he knows better than to bring Dean booze without getting himself some, he'd learned that on day one). Dean feels a smile tugging at his mouth as he watches the crinkling around his angel's eyes subsequent to his initial sharp intake of breath in concern for Jack, mitigated by his son looking over and waving. "Cheers."

Castiel smiles in return, shifting his body close. His voice is low and his breath mingles with Dean's as they stand in one another's space, neither one minding the closeness. Dean's free arm wraps around Cas' shoulders and the angel's hand not holding his bottle clasps the skin on one side of Dean's waist, his thumb tracing small circles on the flesh just above Dean's hip. Even that touch burns brighter than the sun above as the deep voice that sends delight skipping down from Dean's head to his toes intones words thought only to be spoken once, but now voiced as many times as he can possibly speak them, knitting together this righteous man as surely as his body has been remade. 

Step by step, inch by inch, together as a family, those words whenever spoken do much to heal Dean's heart. The sentiment he also feels, and will work to prove every instant of every day, Castiel continues voicing:

_"I love you."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm leaving this open-ended. Did Dean actually get to the seaside? Or is this his dearest dream that he experiences as he is swallowed up by the Empty? That is up to you.
> 
> Feel free to let me know what you thought of this little tale. Thanks so much for reading <3


End file.
